DNR
by Katiesmom07
Summary: House/Wilson oneshot SLASH fic set just after "DNR" S1E9 where House reflects on what his last patient said about him and decides it's time to reveal his feelings to Wilson. Fluffy fluff.


Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own the two sexy men you're about to read about. But if I do ever get a chance to purchase them, I will definitely NOT be sharing! LOL

Author's Notes: I have decided to embark on a little adventure. I have recently been popping in my old DVDs of season one of House and I was thinking of what I thought of the House/Wilson relationship at that exact point. So, I will be writing several oneshot fics each taking place directly after the episode they are named for. There will be spoilers for the episode mentioned, not that will matter since I'm sure each of us have already seen these eps, but I thought I'd better mention it or get scolded! Please keep in mind that I tried to push all information out of my mind except exactly what was given to us in the episode titled and previous episodes. Also, this will **not be a series**, saying that you will NOT have to read this one to read the next. Nothing that happened in this one will be mentioned or will have happened in the next. The only connection is that they will all be House/Wilson mostly SLASH fics. Hope you enjoy!

DNR

The knock sounded at the door and Wilson entered the apartment after House's yell to come in. The older doctor was seated in the couch, feet propped on the coffee table, a half gone Scotch in his hand. The younger walked around the couch and pointed to the black case on the table asking, "What's that?"

House didn't look up. "John Henry Giles' trumpet. He gave it to me."

"Wow! What're gonna do with it?"

Completely ignoring the question, "Do you think I only have one thing?"

Wilson's brow furrowed. "Uh…"

"Seriously. Do you think I only have one thing?"

Flopping back onto the chair, "I…think you have at a lot of things."

Finally looking toward his friend, "Like what?"

"Like…what's this about?"

House scoffed. "The patient…he told me that I only had one thing…being a good doctor."

"Since when have you ever listened to a patient?"

House rose and disappeared into the kitchen without a word. Wilson listened to the clinking of glasses, the water running, the fridge door opening and closing and wondered just what the hell had gotten into his friend. A few minutes later House hobbled in and out of the kitchen, first with a sandwich on a plate then another Scotch before resuming his seat on the sofa.

House nodded toward the kitchen saying, "Made you a sandwich and there's beer in the fridge."

With a raised eyebrow, Wilson stood to retrieve his sandwich and beer. Looking inside the bread he found mustard and no mayo, just the way he liked it. Why would House remember that? With a shrug, he returned to his chair, dinner in hand.

Wilson ate in silence until he realized that House was merely staring at his food. Dropping his sandwich to the plate he asked, "What's going on, House?"

House rubbed his wrinkled forehead saying, "He's right."

"Who's right?"

"The patient. He said I have nothing else to live for other than my work."

The younger man was shocked at this new revelation, partly because House had admitted it out loud and partly because he wondered whether it was actually true. He looked at his friend, seemingly depressed about his new discovery, and felt a pang of sympathy. "And…you think he's right?"

"No. I know he's right. Even you just said it. I asked you what you thought I had and you couldn't name one thing."

"I didn't say anything because-"

House interrupted him, "Doesn't matter. He's right." His shoulders fell, near defeat. "I only think about work, I come home to nothing and I sleep alone, when I even sleep at all. I have nothing."

Wilson wanted to say something…anything. But he knew the wrong thing would set his friend off. "So…what does this mean?"

"It means…we need to talk."

Foregoing his sandwich, Wilson leaned back in the chair, beer in hand. "Okay."

House stood, grabbed his plate and Wilson heard it break in the sink. Patiently, he waited for House to return, intrigued by his best friend's current state. House appeared again, this time leaning in the doorway. He tapped his cane on the floor as he chose the right words. Revealing his feelings and insecurities had never been a strong point for him. "I…don't want to be alone any more." His eyes never left the floor as he waited. But no response ever came. He took a deep breath before continuing. "You asked me a couple days ago what my policy was on employee relations. I think it could work." His eyes finally rose to see the other man's reaction.

He was met with a tilt of the head and a look of confusion. "Cameron?" House shook his head. "Cuddy?" The older man continued to shake his head, wondering how many guesses he'd have to suffer thru. "That new nurse in the NICU?"

This was getting ridiculous. "When do I ever go near the NICU?"

Wilson shrugged. "I was just trying to think of who you'd actually want to date." He took a long pull of his beer before asking, "Do I even know this person? It's not fair having me guess if I'm in the dark here."

House chuckled at his friend's use of words. "Uh…yeah, you know _this person_ but you are still _definitely _in the dark."

"Okay. Let's see. If it's not Cameron or Cuddy and I'm in the dark, then that means I'm nowhere close. So that must mean we're talking about someone who's not a doctor, maybe not even a nurse. Is it that-"

Interrupting again, House couldn't take the guessing any longer. "It's you." It had come out louder than he'd intended. He looked at the startled look on Wilson's face and repeated in a calmer voice, "It's you."

The silenced loomed between them, neither one moving, seemingly frozen in time. Wilson's mouth hung open while House stared at the floor. It was the latter that finally spoke. "Say something."

"I don't know what to say."

"Scream at me. Tell me to go to Hell. Tell me I'm crazy." His voice fell to just above a whisper. "Tell me I'm not."

The silence came again before Wilson leaned forward, set down his beer and said, "I don't want to scream at you. But you are crazy." House gave him a curt nod before walking down the hall toward his bedroom. Wilson shouted after him, "House!"

But the yell went ignored. He flopped onto his bed, feeling like a complete idiot. Part of him had hoped that his friend would understand, at least talk to him. But deep down he knew that this was a mistake.

A few moments later, Wilson appeared at the bedroom door, arms crossed over his chest. "So this is it? You're gonna tell me that you want to have a relationship with me then you're just going to walk away without even talking about it?"

"You said I was crazy."

"You don't think wanting to date your best friend, your married best friend of the same sex, is a little crazy?" House looked up at his friend with just a little trepidation. "Can we please just talk about this?" With another curt nod, House stood and walked toward the door, but was stopped by a hand on his chest. Wilson spoke in soft but firm tones. "But if we're going to consider this, even just to talk about it, you better make sure this is what you really want. Because if it's not, this will ruin everything." He turned to walk away and disappeared into the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Wilson joined him in the living room. House held up a fresh beer, motioning for the younger man to join him on the sofa. He watched his friend swallow hard before taking a seat. After a pull of his ownt beer, House finally spoke. "I'm sure."

With years of experience following his friend's conversations he fell right into place. "Why?"

"Because…you're the only person I want to even spend time with. I share everything with you already, this side of my bed and my last name."

Trying to keep the conversation light, "_Your _last name. What makes you think I'd take your last name?"

House smiled, amused. "Because you are definitely the girl here."

They both laughed before Wilson changed the mood again. "That's not enough."

"What is enough?"

Wilson became just a little frustrated, but tried to control his tone. "I can't tell you that. You have to realize what you're asking. We're talking about my marriage, our friendship."

"Your marriage sucks, even you say that."

"And our friendship? What if this doesn't work?"

House took another sip of his beer, completely uncomfortable with this whole situation. But he knew that he had to continue to get what he wanted. With a deep breath, he let his walls fall. "Our friendship is the only thing I have, other than my work. I wouldn't risk it if I wasn't sure. I am not gay, not in the true sense of the word. I am not randomly attracted to men. I am only attracted…to you."

"You're…attracted to me? Sexually?"

House's head dropped, his chin touching his chest. "Isn't that part of wanting to date someone?"

Wilson stuttered. "W-What…exactly…uh…attracts you?"

His arms flung out. "I don't know. Do you really need to know that?"

"If you can't talk to me, then how are we supposed to date?"

House got up to pace, cane in hand. Nearly five minutes passed before he stopped, his back to his friend. "Your eyes. Normally, they're the perfect shade of sienna. But when you get upset or hurt, they turn to a deep chocolate. And when you're happy, really happy, they brighten to a rich copper. When you're excited, there are these little golden flecks that dance in the copper, sparkling. That's my favorite." He turned to find his friend staring at him, complete shock over his face. With a smirk, he continued, "And then of course there's that nice ass of yours." A blushed hue quickly rose to Wilson's face as he turned it away. "So…is that enough?"

"That…answers my question."

"But is it _enough_?"

Wilson lowered his face to his hands, elbows balanced on knees. "You have to tell me what you want from me."

Reclaiming his seat on the sofa, "I…I'm not sure. I hoped we could talk about it."

"Are you asking me to leave my wife?"

"I'm asking you to be with me. I realize I have no right to ask anything else of you."

"So…you're asking me to have an affair with you."

"No. I just want to have a relationship with you. I want something more than what we have now."

"Please help me here, House. I need some specifics. I need to know what you want from me."

House blew out a frustrated breath. His friend was a planner, much unlike himself. But he knew that he needed to give Wilson more if he wanted to have him by the end of this. "I want…to come home at night and maybe sometimes find you here. I want to fall asleep next to you and then wake up next to you the next morning. I want to stop wondering what it would be like to kiss you. I want you to need me." Wilson was silent for longer than House was comfortable with. "Say something."

"I need to think."

House nodded, rose and went into his bedroom. As he changed into lounge pants and a t-shirt, he wondered how long he would have to wait. In the same moment, he knew he had no right to complain about it, no matter how long it might be. After downing a couple Vicodin, he looked around the room. Normally, when he had something on his mind he would play the piano. He glanced down the hall, wondering whether his music would bother Wilson's thinking.

With a shrug, he walked back into the living room. He found his friend in the same position. "Would you mind if I played?"

He didn't turn, but House swore he heard tears in Wilson's voice when he spoke. "Of course not."

House took his seat and began to play, sticking to a soft melody. He played for what seemed like hours, glancing every once in a while across the room to see Wilson still on the sofa, now leaned back, his eyes closed. When House finally saw the younger man rise, he continued to play, not wanting to cause any disruption.

As Wilson walked toward the piano, House swallowed hard, thinking that this would be the moment of truth. With his hip leaned against the piano, Wilson crossed his arms over his chest and waited in silence while House brought the song to an end. When the song ended, he simply stated, "I'm going to bed."

House watched his friend in shock as he walked down the hallway and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later, the door opened and he disappeared into the bedroom. The older man waited for at least ten minutes before walking to the doorway to find the younger in his bed. The sheet was draped across his waist and one of House's t-shirts covered his chest.

House almost jumped when Wilson spoke. "I'm not ready to tell Julie. I'm not ready to…have sex. You'll have to be patient with me, which I know isn't your best quality. But I'm going to try."

House signature curt nod followed with an agreeable, "Okay." He chuckled before adding, "Move over, you're on my side."

Wilson scooted over with a laugh. "In my whole life, I never imagined hearing you say those words to me." They were both settled into bed, neither one touching the other when House felt Wilson move beside him. In an instant, the younger man was poised above him, their faces only a whisper away. "And stop wondering."

Their lips met, melding together. Wilson's lips were velvet soft against House's rough, chapped lips and unshaven face. House dared to slip his tongue passed his own lips, flicking at his partner's. Wilson's lips parted granting him the entry he desired. Their tongues danced together, clashing against teeth, tasting.

House's arms snaked around Wilson's waist, gently tugging toward his own body. The younger man willingly fell to cover the body underneath him as their kiss deepened. Hands roamed as they both lost their selves in each other.

Wilson pulled back, due to pure need for oxygen, both men panting. After a moment, House whispered an order between deep breaths. "Open your eyes." Wilson did as he was told, unable to deny anything at the moment. House surprised him yet again with his words. "Coffee with swirls of caramel. My new favorite."

"How long have you felt like this?"

"About ten seconds. Until then it was the copper with golden sparks, remember?"

"You're always gonna be an ass, aren't you?"

House chuckled as he pushed hair back from Wilson's eyes. "Yep."

"How long?"

A long moment of silence loomed while House trailed fingertips over Wilson's face. "A long time."

Wilson wanted a more specific answer, but settled with what he had been given. He rolled his eyes before moving back to his side of the bed. "'Night House."

"'Night Jimmy."


End file.
